Date: Fri, 10 May 2013 13:40:38 +0100
From: zadziu98@gmail.com
Subject: The Berth
Disclaimer: This is a fictional story depicting consensual sex between man
and boy. If this illegal for you to read then please leave now. Feedback
welcome - zadziu98@gmail.com
The Berth
by zadziu
I hate flying. I'll go out of my way to avoid it unless it involves long
haul. Then I bite the bullet and endure it. I dope myself up with Xanax to
get through the stress of boarding and take off, then pop a sleeping pill
and that way even a flight to Australia is ok.
But trains and boats are what I like. There is a greater sense of passing
from one country to another. Boats are my special favourite. A journey
takes time but you can wander around and fantasise about seducing some cute
young boy from under the watchful eyes of his parents and dream of taking
him to your cabin for some lovely man/boy action.
It was always a fantasy and never happened as I imagined and hoped it would
but once, just once, in all my years of traveling overnight between Belfast
and Liverpool, something unexpected and welcome did actually happen. And it
was a totally unexpected gift, so easy it was ludicrous. In a fantasy, you
think up convoluted rationales for the chance to meet the boy of your
dreams but this was simply...handed to me!
Now I am turning back the clock a little... to some twenty-five years ago.
At that time there was a single sailing every night from Belfast to
Liverpool and vice versa. I am no snob, as many working class boys can
attest, but the boats were not so great and so I always travelled First
Class. I had actually never travelled Second on this boat as I found First
pretty rough enough in the bars and saloons. I always booked a berth and
here economy always prompted me to book a double, partly to save money but
also because you never know who your cabin mate might be. I am an eternal
optimist.
Generally, it was some fat salesman who would get drunk and snore all
night. And in fact this happened so often that I was beginning to think
that I might have to pay the extra for the luxury of sleeping alone. But
often there would be no one in the cabin but myself so this, and the
eternal hope of someone more interesting, made me stick to my usual plan.
Yes, my taste is for boys but I will compromise with an adult mail on
occasion.
I came on board and was shown to my cabin. There is a higher proportion of
gay men among stewards than in most professions but this one held no
interest for me. In any case, I was going through a boy-obsessed period and
so hardly glanced at this guy. The cabin was unoccupied but someone had
already been in and left his luggage. He had been assigned the upper bunk
and a small suitcase lay on his bed. But there was nothing to tell me any
more about my companion for the night.
I dumped my suitcase and went out on deck to see the ship sail and to do a
bit of cruising. The ship was pretty full but disappointingly there were
few families. I noted a lot of rowdies who would be propping up the bar
later. I had had some success with that type in the past who suddenly
become gay for half an hour under the influence of the booze but they are a
waste of time. They have to get so drunk to act on their desires that they
no longer have the capacity to perform. And I had outgrown drunken fumbles
with `straight' guys.
Besides they were not what I wanted. My tastes had refined and I now wanted
nothing but the sublime pleasures afforded the pedo. I wanted eager,
bright-eyed, wide-eyed boys who knew nothing of sex but were curious and
who had a jumble of emotions and desires that would extend to permitting me
to be their guide. Plus, slim, totally hairless bodies, newly awakening
libido, tight virgin holes and the smell and taste of BOY.
I wandered the deck, always looking for eye candy at the very least but saw
nothing. Next on to the Games machines. Often a good source - but again saw
there only one of the loutish lads who I knew were just not worth the
bother. I went to the restaurant, more to kill time than out of hunger.
I lingered over the meal, drank a half bottle of red, wandered to the bar
which was, as I had feared, full of loutish men. Not even a lad among them.
Time for an early night.
My companion had already returned and was in bed with the lights turned off
and the curtain pulled across the side of his bunk. This was disappointing.
I would at least have liked to see who I was passing the night with. I
didn't want to disturb him so did not put on the overhead light, just the
light over the sink so I could see to brush my teeth. It is the strangest
thing...but I could have sworn I was being watched. It is a kind of fifth
sense. I turned round sharply but could see nothing, or indeed any sign of
life from the upper bunk. No noise of any kind. I finished the cleaning and
prepared for bed.
I have never worn pyjamas since the age of twelve so stripped naked and
slipped into the bunk. I switched my light on and read for a bit but being
very considerate of others did not wish to inconvenience my mystery
companion so switched off the light and turned over to sleep.
There was silence - and just about total blackness as the window was small
and it was almost 11pm. And we were now well into the Irish Sea. So
darkness ruled. There was only the pitch and swell of the ship and the
distant sound of engines. But suddenly there was a shifting in the upper
bunk. Just a stirring, a turning over. I could not help wondering who was
above me. Usually even when we have not met before, when we first came on
the ship and into the cabin, there would be a word or two between us before
turning in. But I had no idea what this guy was like. And I did find myself
wondering...
Then, a new development. The curtain on my bunk began to shake! Whoever was
above me was evidently sitting on the edge of the bunk and swinging his
legs. I was too surprised to say anything. I did begin to think what I
might say and was phrasing a polite comment when whoever it was, jumped
down, lightly landing on the floor.
I really hardly knew what to think of this. Was he a sleepwalker? Was he
drunk? But mostly I wondered what on earth he was up to. I had not long to
wait because suddenly my curtain was pushed aside and the invisible man got
into my bed.
He was wearing pyjamas. But he was all over me, kissing me and hugging me
and in seconds I knew that this was no drunken lout but an extremely nubile
boy. I, of course, responded and kissed him as fervently as he was kissing
me but even so curiosity got the better of me and I broke off to ask, `Just
how old are you?'
He said, `It doesn't matter.'
I said, `Yes, it does. Tell me how old you are.'
He paused and said, `Fifteen'.
He was lying. His length, his waist and chest size, his arms and legs, and
especially his unbroken boy's voice, all suggested he was twelve maximum.
`Am I too young for you?' he asked and really I have to say that the only
adverb to describe his tone is `fearfully'. Perhaps also, `sadly' or am I
wishing for too much?
`Not at all,' I replied, `but just one thing - be so kind as to take these
pyjamas off.' I swear I could hear his smile as he jumped out of the bunk,
tore his jimjams off and hopped back into bed with me.
Now I was able to touch and caress him to the full. I had no idea how much
experience he had but I could hardly believe that I was the first adult
male he had thrown himself at. Unless the weird circumstances of a chance
meeting and the unlikelihood of sharing a bedroom with an adult male was
enough to make him throw all caution to the winds. I felt, strangely, that
he was in charge. He had taken the initiative and what was on his mind was
sex. I held him very close, and ran my hands down his back to his little
pert bottom. Meanwhile, he was humping me and I could feel his little
pencil pressing against me. I couldn't resist and brought a hand round to
inspect him. He was fully hard but pencil really is the best description.
Also absolutely not a hair on his body or pubes or armpits.
What I felt in him more than anything was a desperate need for affection. I
felt a strong wave of empathy. How, at his age, I too had longed for such
an encounter. But my boyhood dreams had always been purely romantic and
even when I began to `wink', which is what we had called wanking or jerking
off, it had always been with the idea of an ideal older friend, a man, who
would simply hold me, occasionally placing chaste kisses on my sweet face.
This boy was voracious. It was not long before he was diving beneath the
bed clothes, scrabbling with his hands, and soon his mouth, for my hard
cock.
What was extraordinary was how passive I was in all of this! I think I was
still so amazed that it was happening. I began to think that it was too
good to be true. That it must be some kind of a setup and that suddenly his
irate father would appear, threatening police action. But I knew the door
was locked from the inside. I relaxed. How irritating the mind can be. Back
to business.
A gift. That is what this was. But I had a duty to perform. This boy needed
guidance. I took the initiative by starting to give him...well I hesitate
to call them orders but let's say...suggestions. Tempting though his
licking of my cock was, it carried the danger of premature ejaculation. I
moved him to my nipples and got him licking those. He thought it weird but
I told him they are little penises and the more he sucked and licked them
then the harder they would become. He liked that idea and fell to, very
happily. He loved it when I did the same to him but he was disappointed
when his tiny pinprick nipples refused to react.
`It takes time but if you play with them when you play with yourself you'll
find you can train them!'
Time for a new development. I urged him to turn over. He was such a good
boy, that anything I suggested he was happy to do. Soon he was in my
favourite position, my arms wrapped tight around him, his arms reaching
backwards to caress any and every part of my body with his little hands,
and my cock between his legs. He responded so readily to this that I was
determined to go ahead. When would I ever get an opportunity like this
again? No need for elaborate plans, no prolonged seductions, just a boy in
the bed who seemed to be up for anything. He was so hungry for sex...but
his eagerness did not disguise his naivety or his ignorance of what a
determined pedo, presented with such an opportunity, might do. I had to
seize this opportunity. There was no lube. I thought of breaking off to
find something to improvise with - shampoo, or soap, but such a break at
such a time could be fatal. I had to push forward, not allowing any of his
ardour to cool off, I had to trap his newly emerged animal side and use it
for my own ends.
He had to be a virgin. Because he was either that or a frantic boy whore
and somehow there was too little of the calculation of the whore in him;
and this was a well-spoken, middle class boy, spending the night in a first
class cabin. No, I was pretty sure all he had experienced until now were
unresolved dreams of sex with a man.
If he had romantic dreams of loving, gentle sex with a sweet gentleman, he
had chosen the wrong bunk to jump into. This pedo had put up with too many
prick teasers and unsatisfactory meetings to be swayed by pleas of
innocence and `I didn't think it would be like this! Stop! Please stop!`.
This kid's tight little rosebud was going to be split open. It would have
to happen sometime, given the boy's sexual desperation so it might as well
be now. No pleasure without pain.
So...no lube, no breaking off for soap, or shampoo or face cream or
whatever. It would have to be spit and as much as I could get onto my
raging cock.
Hearing all my hawking and sucking and slurping, I was conscious that he
was turning his head round, to try and see what I was up to. Impossible in
this light. I pushed his head down and brought my mouth close to his ear,
as I rubbed the spit on my cock.
"I am going to slick up your hole so that I can get my cock into your ass.
It's going to be tight and it might hurt a bit,' I whispered - might? ha!
`But it is what you want and what I want and you will love it and want it
more and more. You will dream of this for years, little man, dream of a man
fucking your little tight boy hole. You never forget your first time and
that makes it special so just think of that, if it feels too tight or too
big. After all sometimes you do a big shit and you wonder how something
that big and thick can come out of you but if it can come out of you,
something that size can go in so just relax and enjoy it.'
He was scared, I could tell, but he was like me in knowing this was a rare
chance to make dreams real and, little soldier that he was, he was ready to
see it through. I maneuvered him into classic doggy position, then pressed
his head down on to the pillow and held it there. No point in letting him
think I was going to release him before I had my wicked way with him.
Anyway, it gives a reluctant virgin the perfect out afterwards if he wants
to believe he didn't like being fucked - ``Oh but I didn't want it but he
forced me, he held me down, he dominated me.` I was probably starting this
kid down the road to a life of sexual submission but, for guys who are into
that, it is evidently deeply satisfying so he might well come to bless me
for that too, in time.
I had produced as much spit as I could. His little hole was ready to be
worked and, considering I was in such a state of sexual excitement, I tried
to be gentle with him as I inserted a finger. His body tensed at this first
ever invasion of his virgin hole - bottles and the like usually come a few
years later - but he said not a word, just gasped slightly.
The consciousness of taking this slim, hairless kid's virginity was
threatening to make me shoot too soon - so I gave up on the fingers and
positioned my cock at the opening. I pushed. Total resistance. But this was
no time for polite courtesies and solicitous questions as to whether he was
ok or not. Knowing I was in position I just pushed and pushed and that
tight little hole began to open even as he began to whimper `no, no, no'. I
selfishly decided no means yes as I shoved his face into the pillow and
continued. I was crazy with excitement in any case and I knew my climax was
not far off. I reached round to his little cock which was as hard as ever
and began to stroke it. With my other arm I pulled him upright, impaling
him on my cock as it entered him fully. An attempt at a scream was cut off
by my mouth reaching round to cover his - see, I am a romantic! And then,
good boy that he was, he settled on to my shaft and the scream died. Enough
of the kissing. I pulled away and began to lick his neck, savouring the
exquisite softness of the skin, my free hand stroking his slim hairless
body, feeling the marble smoothness of his tiny buttocks, while my other
hand worked on his little pencil dick which never lost its hardness. He
began to pant and give out little cries of excitement and then he climaxed,
shooting out a thin gruel of dribbly boy sperm. I bit back a roar and shot
deep into his boy hole, thrust after thrust after thrust, nearly splitting
the poor little tyke in two. But as I say, no pleasure without pain,
especially for sweet little bottom kids in the hands of a predatory pedo. I
scooped up his sperm and licked it greedily.
`Did you just eat my stuff?' he asked. I was recalled to a kind of reality.
Belfast accent but polite, middle class.
`Yes I did and it was really, really nice.'
`Oh, no, that's gross!' But he laughed as he said it.
I reached backwards for the light and there was my beautiful twelve year
old with a huge smile in a handsome...Indian face! It was all so
incongruous and crazy. A boy throwing himself at me, engaging in wild
passionate sex, being twelve and from Belfast and Indian!
For someone who had so recently been nearly split in two, he was remarkably
perky and cheerful. After cleaning up a bit, we snuggled up and he told me
how he was off to boarding school. (`Can twelve year olds travel alone?' I
wondered to myself. `I hope his teachers are ready for this one.') He
wanted to talk but I wasn't into hearing the story of his life at such an
hour and I drifted off to sleep with this beautiful boy curled up, his head
resting on my chest, knowing I would be ploughing him again before we left
the ship. If only all my conquests could be so easy...